No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

Ashley reached through the security grate and adjusted the
Sony’s antenna. He squinted into the coffee stand, into the
dark spaces under the counters. “And … do you think they
have a real radio back there?”
“What?”
“A two-way radio? Or a landline phone? They’d have to.”
Easy there, Ashley.
“Yeah?” Ed grunted. “If they do, it’s state property, locked
up—”
Ashley pointed. “Held by a dollar-store padlock. One
good whack with something heavy, and those shutters come
right up.”
“I’m not in a felony mood just yet.”
“Maybe you’ll reconsider,” Ashley said, “in the next few
minutes.”
Darby knew he would. She stood by the window, trying to
appear calm, and looked outside into the dark trees. The
snowflakes kept coming, some rising, some falling, catching
flecks of sodium lamplight like cinders from a campfire. A
few paces behind her, she heard Ashley exhale through
chattering teeth. He had the rock-in-a-sock stuffed up his right
sleeve, ready to drop into his palm and swing.
They’d agreed on a covert signal. When Ashley was
ready, he’d cough once. This would be Darby’s cue to walk to
the front door, pass Lars on her way outside, and set the
ambush in motion. Like triggering a bear trap.
Only problem? Ashley wasn’t ready.
He hovered there, teeth gritted, sucking in shallow gulps
of air. She hoped his shortness of breath wouldn’t be a
liability. Typical for her luck — I enlist the aid of the youngest,
tallest, strongest-looking guy in the immediate area, and he
turns out to have asthma. Just great. And she couldn’t even
imagine what was going on in poor Ashley’s mind. An hour
ago, he’d been demonstrating a Mexican turnover to this guy,